NaBloPoMo - I'm Half Way There

It's November 15th and that means I'm at the mid-point NaBloPoMo or National Blog Post Month.

In the past 15 days, I've shared stories about my plans to write daily, the Plank Pose Challenge (which I've had to take a break from this week, but I'll be back at it tomorrow), Calvin & Hobbes, menopause, my plans to buy Michael Jordan's house next week, the awesome shit my friends say that keep me in stitches, all that I'm grateful for, and five new experiences (here, here, here, and here), and becoming a multi-millionaire thanks to the kindness of a stranger in China.

It's felt great to be writing regularly again because writing relaxes me. It helps me process life, even when I'm writing about completely inane topics, and it often forces me to question my own beliefs as I try to explain them.

I guess, in short, writing keeps me sane.

What do I have planned for the next 15 days?

Among other things, I've got a major announcement planned for Sunday, I'll be sharing details of my trip to Springfield and the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum, a computer virus warning from my company's CIO, and many new adventures that I have yet to share with you. 

I hope you're enjoying NaBloPoMo as much as I'm enjoying it. See you tomorrow.

Mrs. Paulk Goes to Washington

About 10:30 this morning, I received one of those dreaded phone calls. It was from my mom and she was calling to tell me that something happened with Nana last night and she wasn't expected to live through the week. My mom gave me the details of what happened with Nana, but all I heard was "Nana is dying," so I can't explain to you what my mom told me.

Many of you know about my Nana and know about the long ordeal we've had with her over the last 7 years. Newer readers of LMS probably don't know about my Nana. Frances Paulk is my maternal grandmother, my heroine, and my rock and it breaks my heart into 10 million pieces seeing her suffer. You can read more about her in these blog posts.

After I spoke with mom and wiped the tears from my face, I spent most of my day feeling numb. I also got to thinking about some of my favorite memories with Nana.

In the fall of 1994, my uncle graduated from medical school in upstate New York. On her return flight to Florida, Nana had an hour layover in DC, where I'd been living for almost 18 months. Because Washington National Airport (now Reagan National Airport, UGH!) was just a few Metro stops from my office, I suggested that I meet Nana during my lunch hour. And then I had one of my most brilliant ideas.

Almost 80 years old, Nana had never visited Washington DC. As a surprise, I called the airline and arranged to have her layover changed from an hour to four hours. In retrospect, I'm not sure how she didn't know about this change, but when I met her at the gate and let her know of the change of plans, she sure did act surprised. We were going to use her layover to tour DC.

We hopped on the Metro (DC's subway) and rode it across the Potomac River and back into the District. Getting off directly under my office building, our first stop was my office at Hogan & Hartson. As we walked into the lobby and into my office (not a cubicle), she beamed with pride. Because I had just gotten a promotion, I had also just received my first business card. I gave her one that day and she carried it in her wallet until she stopped carrying a wallet.

We left my office and took a cab to my apartment. Although it was only about 6 or 7 blocks away, this was further than I thought she could easily walk and didn't want to spend our precious time walking. I wanted her to see as much of DC as possible in the short amount of time we had. It was from the window of my apartment that she first saw the Capitol and that was the first of many times that day she would say to me "In all my years, I never thought I'd see DC. I read about it in history books, but I never thought I'd walk in the city where George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Abe Lincoln walked."

We grabbed another cab and I explained to the driver that my Nana had never visited DC before and that before he took us back to Washington National, I wanted him to show us everything. As luck would have it, he was a fountain of knowledge and eagerly drove us from my apartment to the Capitol, past the National Mall, to the Washington Monument, down Constitution Avenue to the Lincoln Memorial, up to National Cathedral, down Massachusetts Avenue past Embassy Row, down 16th Street to Pennsylvania Avenue and slowly in front of the White House, over to the Jefferson Memorial, across the 14th Street Bridge and the Potomac River, to the George Washington Parkway and to the airport.

The whole way, Nana sat with her face glued to the cab window taking in the sites not knowing if she'd ever return to the District. The only words she was able to speak were "I never thought I'd see Washington." When she finally emerged from the cab at National Airport, I saw for the first time, the tears of joy in her eyes. Her emotions were obvious and she didn't need to tell me how much she loved that afternoon, although I certainly knew.

That Christmas, I surprised her with one of those Washington DC coffee table books with beautiful pictures of all the sights we saw that afternoon. It was her favorite gift that year and it was certainly my favorite gift that I gave that year. One of the things I loved most about her was her memory. Even though she'd only seen it all once in person, she narrated the entire book to the entire family that Christmas afternoon.

I can't begin to count the number of times I heard her recount that day and how proud she was to be touring Washington with me. The thing is, I'm not sure who was prouder that day, her or me.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I do know that they're running some tests tonight and we should know more soon. I don't know if she really only has about a week left or if I'll blow out the candles on her 93rd birthday cake with her in July.

Part 2 tomorrow.

It's A New Day!

Today is a significant day.

First, it's the 3 week anniversary of the end of our long national nightmare known as the Bush Administration. That's right. As of today, President Barack Obama has been the Commander in Chief for 21 days. In that time, he's done some amazing things for women. First, he repealed the Global Gag Rule which prevented nongovernmental organizations around the world that accepted aid from the US from discussing birth control options with women. Second, the first bill he signed into law was the Lily Ledbetter Fair Pay Act. Seriously. "That one" has done more for women in the last 21 days than our former Idiot in Chief did in 8 years. On behalf of women all over the world, thank you Mr. President. Of course, I'd be happier if the women's health provisions hadn't been stripped from the Stimulus Package, but I'm going to focus on what's good right this minute.

Second, today is also the 2 year anniversary of the date on which President Barack Obama announced his campaign for President of the United States. I remember watching his speech on CNN (CNN and CSPAN are my porn, in case you didn't know) and crying. Yes, I do a lot of crying where Barack Obama is concerned. I already knew what many folks were just beginning to learn: Barack Obama is the real deal.

In case you've forgotten, here's the speech that launched it all on the steps of the Illinois State Capitol in Springfield.


Watch President Obama sign the Ledbetter Act:

Senator Obama's Thank You Letter to Illinois

From today's Chicago Sun-Times:

Obama's letter to the people of Illinois

November 16, 2008
BY PRESIDENT-ELECT BARACK OBAMA

Today, I am ending one journey to begin another. After serving the people of Illinois in the United States Senate -- one of the highest honors and privileges of my life -- I am stepping down as senator to prepare for the responsibilities I will assume as our nation's next president. But I will never forget, and will forever be grateful, to the men and women of this great state who made my life in public service possible.

More than two decades ago, I arrived in Illinois as a young man eager to do my part in building a better America. On the South Side of Chicago, I worked with families who had lost jobs and lost hope when the local steel plant closed. It wasn't easy, but we slowly rebuilt those neighborhoods one block at a time, and in the process I received the best education I ever had. It's an education that led me to organize a voter registration project in Chicago, stand up for the rights of Illinois families as an attorney and eventually run for the Illinois state Senate.

It was in Springfield, in the heartland of America, where I saw all that is America converge -- farmers and teachers, businessmen and laborers, all of them with a story to tell, all of them seeking a seat at the table, all of them clamoring to be heard. It was there that I learned to disagree without being disagreeable; to seek compromise while holding fast to those principles that can never be compromised, and to always assume the best in people instead of the worst. Later, when I made the decision to run for the United States Senate, the core decency and generosity of the American people is exactly what I saw as I traveled across our great state -- from Chicago to Cairo; from Decatur to Quincy.

I still remember the young woman in East St. Louis who had the grades, the drive and the will but not the money to go to college. I remember the young men and women I met at VFW halls across the state who serve our nation bravely in Iraq and Afghanistan. And I will never forget the workers in Galesburg who faced the closing of a plant they had given their lives to, who wondered how they would provide health care to their sick children with no job and little savings.

Stories like these are why I came to Illinois all those years ago, and they will stay with me when I go to the White House in January. The challenges we face as a nation are now more numerous and difficult than when I first arrived in Chicago, but I have no doubt that we can meet them. For throughout my years in Illinois, I have heard hope as often as I have heard heartache. Where I have seen struggle, I have seen great strength. And in a state as broad and diverse in background and belief as any in our nation, I have found a spirit of unity and purpose that can steer us through the most troubled waters.

It was long ago that another son of Illinois left for Washington. A greater man who spoke to a nation far more divided, Abraham Lincoln, said of his home, "To this place, and the kindness of these people, I owe everything." Today, I feel the same, and like Lincoln, I ask for your support, your prayers, and for us to "confidently hope that all will yet be well."

With your help, along with the service and sacrifice of Americans across the nation who are hungry for change and ready to bring it about, I have faith that all will in fact be well. And it is with that faith, and the high hopes I have for the enduring power of the American idea, that I offer the people of my beloved home a very affectionate thanks.